


Only Human

by giraffewrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffewrites/pseuds/giraffewrites
Summary: When Flash takes things too far - pushes Peter too far by mentioning his fathers and what happened, Peter can't take it anymore.Or, an au where after civil war, Steve was put in prison, Tony has a hard time facing his feelings, and Peter just wants to see his pops.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everything that happened in Civil War is the same, except Peter wasn't involved, and Steve was put in prison instead of fleeing with Bucky. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!

The hallway of the school is quiet as Peter sits outside the principal's office. It’s much too quiet for his liking, reminding him of the eerie silences used in horror films before the killer jumps out. He can hear the conversation in the Principal’s office. Flash is in there, as is his father as they speak to the principal. There’s a lot of ‘he’s going through a hard time’ and other pitying words that Peter doesn’t want to have forced upon him. He’s aware he’s going through a hard time.

The door opens and Peter looks up from his shoes. The principal beckons him in and not wanting to get into more trouble, Peter follows him without hesitation. Flash is sat with his his father. They look almost identical, if it wasn’t for the bruise forming around the younger male’s eye. Peter sits two seats away from them, looking at the floor.

“Flash and his father have agreed that there’s no reason to suspend you-”

“ _I_ never agreed to that,” Flash is quick to say, only to get disapproving looks off both his father and the principal.

“However,” the principal continues, looking back at Peter, “you do have a week of detention, and you’re not to participate in the upcoming decathlon event.”

Maybe he should be angry for that, or maybe he should be grateful he isn’t getting suspended. But Peter feels neither, he just nods his head. “Okay,” is all he says, kicking the front of his shoe against the floor.

“We couldn’t get a hold of your father, but-”

“You won’t,” Peter shrugs, finally looking up at the man. _He doesn’t care enough to be here_ , is what he wants to say. But he doesn’t. “He’s busy.” He hears Flash scoff and Peter digs his fingers into his jeans.

“That may be the case, but I will be ringing him later to have a word with him.”

Peter nods his head, eyes casted back to the floor. “Can I leave now?”

“After you’ve apologised to Flash, yes.”

It’s hard not to snap again at this point, but Peter manages. He turns his head to Flash, who looks far too smug as he sits with his arms crossed, a smirk on his lips. “Sorry,” he says, the word falling out of his mouth without any true remorse.

“I suppose it’s okay,” Flash shrugs, “We can’t all be in control of ourselves, can we?”

Having enough of this, Peter exits the room with another word spoken. He hears his name being called but doesn’t look back. He heads to the front door of the door of the school, wiping his tears as quickly as quickly as they fall.

___

_Peter really hadn’t wanted to come to school today. He’d tried to take the day off, but his dad didn’t let him. He was tempted to skip, but Ned had been waiting to meet him at the gates of the school, so Peter decided to face the music._

_“I’m sure it won’t even be that great,” Ned says as reassuring as he can. They walk to Peter’s locker, Ned leaning against the locker next to his. “It never is.”_

_“It’s Flash’s dad,” Peter points out, “it’ll be great, you know it as much as I do.” He grabs puts his Chemistry book in his locker before closing it. He looks at Ned and sighs. “Sorry, I know you’re only trying to help.”_

_Flash’s dad is coming into the class to talk. It isn't a ‘bring your parent to school’ day - they’d been left behind in middle school. But every now and again, a highly positioned professional is asked to come in and speak. This semester, it just so happened to be Flash’s dad._

_Originally, Peter’s dad, Tony, was meant to come in. But he’d had to cancel due to a meeting coming up. Peter’s other dad (mainly referred to as ‘pops’), wasn’t even an option. Sure, he was Captain America. Sure, they still used his motivational videos in classes - which made Peter extremely uncomfortable. But Steve was in jail, and Peter hasn’t seen him in over a year._

_When it was made apparent that neither Peter’s parents could make it, Flash had volunteered his own dad. This alone was bad enough - Peter was sure he was only doing it to aggravate him more. But it didn’t help that Flash’s bullying had gotten worse ever since Steve’s imprisonment. For the last eighteen months, Flash has brought it up constantly, making comments and, to put it crudely, has been a dickhead about it. If it wasn’t for Michelle and Ned talking Peter down, he would’ve reacted to Flash’s taunting a long time ago._

_Ned and Peter get to class, going to their seats in the second row. Flash and his father are stood at the front as others come in. Peter doesn’t miss the smug look Flash aims at him._

_The talk Flash’s father gives is long, but Peter had tuned out within two minutes. His concentration hasn’t been the best, as of late. For the majority of the talk, Peter had looked out the window, only snapping back into reality when the bell rung._

_“It’s physics next, right?” Ned asks as he and Peter make their way out of the classroom, walking past Flash as he talks to the teacher and his father._

_“Biology, actually,” Peter corrects. They’re just a few steps out of the classroom when Peter hears Flash call him. He ignores it at first, but when he’s called ‘Penis Parker’, he turns around. “What do you want, Flash?” He sighs._

_“I just wanted to see what you thought of my father’s talk,” Flash asks._

_Peter doesn’t answer him, knowing that there’s a snarky remark to follow up._

_“It must be weird for you,” Flash continues, his signature smirk not waiting long to appear. “Seeing someone have a father who actually cares about them. Your father couldn’t even shift a meeting to another day for you.”_

_Peter’s hands curl into fists by his side. “It’s none of your business what my father does.”_

_“Oh on the contrary,” Flash insists, stepping forward. “Your parents’ news is everyone’s business. It was on the news - Steve Rogers behind bars. It was quite the news flash, no one ever expected Captain America to be a wrongdoer. Iron Man, on the other hand...”_

_“None of your business,” Peter snarls, fingernails digging into his palms. He feels Ned’s hand on his shoulder but shrugs it off._

_“He was the one everyone was expecting to fuck up and go to prison,” Flash continues, eyes lighting up when he sees he’s getting a reaction out of Peter. He steps closer, now only at arms length from Peter. “But good old Cap… no one saw it coming. Not one thought he was a criminal, no one-”_

_Flash doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Peter’s fist swings into his face, hitting him directly in the eye. There are gasps from the students in the hall, but for a few seconds, all Peter can hear is the ringing in his ears. But that’s soon broken from a voice behind him. He turns around to see the principal, looking down at Peter with his arms crossed and a disappointed look on his face. “My office, now.”_

___

Peter takes the long way home. He doesn’t change into his suit and use his webs to get back. He walks the streets and takes the time to try and calm down. He knows his dad’s going to want to talk when he gets back home tonight, but the thought alone makes Peter want to lock himself away in his bedroom. He picks up a sandwich from the Deli-grocery, not having eaten since the rushed breakfast he had early this morning. He puts it in his bag, deciding to wait until he’s home to eat it.

When he’s finally home, he gets a bottle of water from the fridge and heads upstairs. His room’s a mess. Clothes all over the floor, desk full of cups, magazines, books and loose pieces of paper. He ignores it all, puts his bag on the hook behind his door, and lays on his bed. He eats half the sandwich and takes two sips of water before losing his appetite. He puts them on his bedside table and gets up, going to his desk.

Under everything - all the random equations and school notes - Peter finds what he wants. A framed photo of him and his pops - taken just a month before everything went to shit. In the photo both of them are smiling, and Peter remembers the smile his dad was wearing when he took the photo. Neither of them have smiled like that in a long time.

Back on the bed, Peter lays down. He curls into a ball, closing his eyes as a tear runs down his cheek. He holds the framed photo to his chest. It’s as close to his pops as he’ll get for the time being.

___

Tony gets home at seven. He’d been in an underwhelming meeting for most of the day, and then got called into SHIELD. That was the last place he wanted to be. They’d pestered him with the same questions they had for months on end. ‘When’re you filing for divorce?’ ‘You know how bad you and Steve still being legally married makes us look, right?’ ‘You’re at least aware that you can’t stay with Steve, right? He’s a _criminal_.’ Tony was surprised it still shocked him how thick the SHIELD bosses were. He knows Steve’s a criminal. He knows he needs to divorce him. But none of it’s straightforward. It never is when emotions - and more importantly, your son - come into play.

He steps through the door and turns his phone on, only having turnt it off this morning due to all the messages SHIELD were leaving him about the meeting he just got out of. Nothing else off SHIELD, thankfully. But five missed calls and a voicemail off Peter’s school. He listens to the voicemail.

_“Mr Stark, it’s Principal Morita. I’m ringing to inform you that Peter’s not only left the school grounds without permission from a member of authority, but physically assaulted another student. He isn’t suspended, but I believe that having a word with him may help. I do also wish to see you for a one on one, please get back in touch to arrange a meeting.”_

“Jesus Christ,” Tony whispers to himself, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. He wishes he was shocked, but in all honesty, he isn’t. Peter hasn’t been himself (nor has Tony) for a while now. Tony blames himself. He should’ve spoken to Peter about what’s happened these last eighteen months, instead of whisking them off on a vacation as soon as Steve was sentenced. But it was Steve who was always better at doing the speaking. It was Steve who was much more in tune with his emotions. Tony shakes his head - there’s no more time for excuses. He’s got to sort things out. For Peter more than himself.

He heads upstairs and after changing out of his business suit and into a t-shirt and jeans, he goes to his son’s room. He knocks the door softly before opening it, popping his head in. The room is still a mess, but he finds Peter asleep on the bed, curled up in a ball. Tony steps inside as quietly as he can, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks down at Peter with a saddened smile.

He remembers the joy that he and Steve had felt when they’d first adopted Peter. It was ten years back, and Peter was this little kid with excited eyes and a mouth that not stopped talking. He’d clung more to Tony than he had Steve at first. But within a few days, Peter was as attached to Steve as he was Tony.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been the best these last few months,” Tony says softly, watching as Peter sleeps. “I’ll try and do better from now on. You deserve that.” He presses a kiss to his forehead before standing up, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen before exiting the room.

___

When Peter wakes up, the sun’s gone down and there’s a note next to him on the bed. There’s also a blanket over him, covering all him bar his head. With a yawn, he pulls the piece of paper closer to him, keeping the other hand occupied with holding the photo.

_Peter, come down once you’re awake, we need to speak. The school left me a voicemail. You’re not in trouble, don’t worry._

_Dad._

Peter groans, closing his eyes once again. He doesn’t want to speak about the incident in school. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to when every time he tries to bring up his pops, his dad just changes topic. Sitting up, he rests against the headboard and looks back down at the photo. It doesn’t take long before tears are pooling in his eyes for the third time today. He knows Steve’s in prison for a reason, but it doesn’t stop Peter from missing him. He stands the frame on his bedside table before getting up, leaving the blanket on the bed.

It doesn’t take him long to find his dad. He’s usually in one of three places - workshop, lounge, or kitchen. Seeing as he’d mentioned wanting to speak to Peter, Peter had ruled out the workshop. He wasn’t in the lounge, either, which led Peter to find Tony in the kitchen.

The older man doesn’t noticed Peter’s presence at first. He’s sat at the table, a coffee in one hand as he uses the other to scroll through something on a tablet. It isn’t until Peter sits next to him and lets out a small cough, that Tony realises he’s there.

“How was your sleep?” Tony asks, turning his head to look at Peter. Only now does he see the tear tracks on his face. He frowns, but doesn’t make a comment on it.

Peter shrugs his shoulders, brining his knees up to his chest. He secures them by wrapping his arms around them. “It was fine.”

“Did you see the letter I left you?’

Peter nods his head, but doesn’t make eye contact with his dad.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” Tony asks, gently squeezing Peter’s shoulder.

“No,” the word comes out weaker than Peter would’ve liked. He turns his head to look away from Tony, and rests it on top of his knees.

Upsetting doesn’t even begin to cover how seeing Peter like this makes Tony feel. “I can’t force you to tell me anything,” he starts, “But I’ve got to meet with your principal, anyway. So you might as well tell me your side of the story, before he potentially tells me a different tale of events.”

It’s silent for a moment. Not awkward, not eerie, just silent. And then, “Flash was saying stuff about you and pops.” Peter feels Tony’s grip on his shoulder tighten slightly. “He’s been saying it for a while, but today it was too much. He kept pushing and pushing and pushing-”

Tony pulls his son into arms when he hears his voice break. In most situations, Tony’s uncomfortable with any type of physical contact. His son, however, is different. He feels a wet patch forming on his shirt where Peter’s face is, but he can’t bring himself to care. He goes to speak, but Peter beats him to it.

“I don’t know what came over me,” he admits, tears still pooling out of his eyes and dampening his dad’s shirt. “H-he just wouldn’t shut up, and he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get what it’s like to lose so many of your family members.” It’s then that he loses it. His cries turn to sobs, and his hands fist onto Tony’s shirt as if his life depends on it.

It breaks Tony’s heart, and he holds Peter as closely to him as possible. His own tears start forming and cascading down his face. He hasn’t seen Peter cry like this since Steve was sentenced. “I miss him too,” he says quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I know you’ve wanted to visit him, and I-”

“Can we?” Peter asks desperately, pulling away from Tony to look at him. There’s a flash of hope in his eyes, but then he shakes his head. Every time he’s asked in the past, the conversation always gets awkward and changed to another topic. He should know better than to ask. “Actually, nevermind, I know you-”

“If it’s what you want, then yes,” Tony replies, despite the anxiety building up inside of him. He feels his left hand start to tremble but does his best to ignore it. “Despite what happened between him and myself,” he feels a dull pain in his chest, “he’s still your parent, and I can’t change that. I’ll see if we can visit him on the weekend, okay?”

Peter’s crying all over again, but this time for a different reason. He hugs his dad tightly and thanks him, overwhelmed with the knowledge he might be able to see his pops as soon as Saturday.

___

Tony gets takeout in for dinner, too drained to cook something himself. He barely eats anything, but is more than glad to see Peter wolf down the Chinese whilst a film plays on the television. Tony’s wanted to take back the decision of going to visit Steve ever since he agreed to it. But he can’t. Steve isn’t only Tony’s husband, but Peter’s parent. Not letting him see when he’s already agreed to it would be the cruelest thing Tony could do. He’ll just have to ignore the constant anxiety and slight tremble in his hand.

“I’m going upstairs,” Peter announces after the film. He stands up, picking up the empty takeout containers. He leans down to hug his dad as best as he can, “Goodnight dad.”

Tony gives him a pat on the back, forcing a smile when Peter pulls back. “Goodnight Peter.”

Once Tony’s on his own, he sinks into the couch and covers his eyes with his hand. There are tears trying to find a way out, but Tony squeezes his eyes shut. This might be the stupidest decision he’s made in a long time, but he doesn’t have a choice. Peter has the right to see Steve, and Tony just wants to do his best by him.

He gets his phone out of his pocket, goes to his contacts, then holds the phone to his ear. It rings three times before there’s an answer. “Hello, Ross. Yes, this is to do with Steve.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A backstory, hidden letters, and Rhodey stepping in to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments! I’ve decided to change the amounts of chapters from two to three, seeing as there’s more I want to include in this story.
> 
> There's a backstory written in this, but it's not all told in one go, instead spreading out throughout the fic.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_“Come here, you’re making a mess of it.” Tony crosses the room to his fiance, batting Steve’s hands away from the tie he’s making a mess of._

_“I can’t help it,” Steve admits, running a hand through the front of his hair. He looks at Tony, “It’s a big day. Aren’t you nervous?”_

_“Of course I am,” Tony looks up at Steve as his hands continue doing the tie, “but we’ve known him for a year, we wouldn’t be adopting him if there wasn’t a connection.”_

_Steve hums, moving his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Tony’s ear. “That’s a good point.”_

_“Of course it is,” Tony grins, finished with correcting the tie. He cups Steve’s cheeks, eyes shining with fondness. “I’m full of good points.”_

_With a roll of his eyes, Steve leans down to press his lips to Tony’s. They remain pressed together for a few seconds, before breaking apart before it can get heated. Steve rests his forehead against Tony’s, moving his hand to cup Tony’s cheek. The pad of his thumb rubs against Tony’s stubble. “Ready?”_

_Tony slides their hands together. He nods his head, exhaling as he looks at the taller man. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”_

___

Tony sits at the desk in his workshop, six envelops in front of him. Three are addressed to Tony, three to Peter. All of them have been opened. The tops of them were teared open as soon as they’d arrived. However, they aren’t new. Far from it. Two are from a week before Steve’s trial, two from a month after his sentence, the last two from six months after his sentence. Tony has read and has reread each and every one of them, yet he’s never shown them to Peter. He was going to, but he never did. It wasn’t out of spite; it was more that if he showed Peter the letters addressed to him, Tony would have to admit that Steve was still a part of their life. And that’s something he wasn’t (and barely is) ready to admit.

“What’re those?”

Tony jumps out of his skin when an unexpected voice comes from behind him. “Jeez Peter!” He huffs, looking at his son, hand over his chest as he breathes heavily. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Peter can’t help but laugh. “Sorry dad.” He pulls a stool out from under the desk and sits down. His eyes wander back to the envelops, “Hey, these have my name on!”

“Hold on,” Tony grabs Peter’s wrist as the younger male puts his hand out to get them, “Let me explain. He looks at Peter and sees the curiosity in his eyes. He holds back a sigh. How’s he meant to explain this without upsetting Peter? “They’re from your pops.”

Peter’s eyes widen. His other hand flies out to get the letters, only to be stopped by his dad’s once more.

“Let me explain first,” Tony says through gritted teeth. His hands don’t leave Peter’s wrists. “They aren’t new.”

One of Peter’s eyebrows furrow. He looks at his dad, confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean?”

“They’re,” Tony starts, only to let out a sigh of frustration. Peter already looks hurt, Tony can’t bare to worsen it. But he hasn’t got a choice. “One’s from the week before his trial, one is from a month after his imprisonment, the last one is from six month after,” he explains, no longer looking at Peter. He’s too ashamed of what he’s done; the further pain he’s inflicted on his already hurting son.

Peter’s silent for a few seconds, thinking over what his dad’s just told him. Then he snatches his hands away from his dad. His breathing gets heavy. He can’t take his eyes off the letters. “You never told me.”

“I was going to, Peter. I swear, but-”

Not wanting to hear anymore of whatever it is his dad has to say, Peter shakes his head. “No.” He gets up from the stool, finally looking at his dad. Their faces mirror one another; hurt and upset written across both. “I don’t want to know.” He grabs the letters addressed to him, then turning on his heel and heading for the stairs.

“Peter wait!” Tony pleads desperately, getting up and following his son.

“I don’t want to talk to you!” Peter shouts, his voice thick. He runs upset and rushes out the door, knowing his dad isn’t able to keep up with him.

Tony watches Peter go and closes his eyes, jaw clenching. He closes his shaking hand into a fist, the other running through his hair. _Give him some time, he’ll come round._

___

_“He hasn’t stopped talking about you,” Matilda, their social worker says happily as she welcomes them in. “Excited isn’t the word.”_

_Steve and Tony look at each other, smiling. “We’re excited, too.”_

_They follow her to the living room, a couple of children on the floor, a bunch of teenagers sat on the couch. Peter’s sat at the table on his own. His head is down, a crayon clenched in his fist, gliding across a piece of paper._

_“Peter, look who’s here.”_

_The little boy’s head snaps up. As soon as he sees Steve and Tony, he’s grinning ear to ear. He ditches the crayon, jumping off the chair and running towards the two men. He jumps into Tony’s arms with a squeal, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck._

_“Hey kiddo,” Tony greets, taking his hand out of Steve’s to rest on Peter’s back. “You ready to come home?”_

_Peter nods his head excitedly. “I’m ready!” He looks over at Steve, giving him a wave, “Hi Steve!”_

_Steve returns the smile, moving his hand to ruffle the child’s hair. “Hey Peter.”_

_Once Steve’s collected Peter’s luggage - Tony’s arms occupied with Peter - they load up the car, securing Peter in the back._

_“I can’t believe we finally have a child,” Steve says to Tony, the two of them standing behind the car._

_“I know,” Tony shuts the boot, then grins at Steve, “I never thought it’d happen.”_

_“But it has.” Steve holds Tony’s hand, then strokes his cheek with the back of his other one. “And we’re going to do great by him, I know we are.”_

___

Peter sits in a booth at the back of the cafe, Michelle and Ned sat opposite him. The envelopes are on the table. He’s explained the situation, yet he hasn’t spoken a word since.

“Peter,” Michelle says slowly, looking at him worriedly. “Have you read these letters yet?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Okay.” Michelle turns her head to look at Ned, jerking her head towards Peter subtly, as if to say _you say something, too._

“Maybe… you should,” Ned suggests. “You’ve got them, you might as well read them.”

“He wasn’t even going to tell me,” Peter whispers, voice so quiet that Ned and Michelle almost missed it. “He’s been hiding these from me for over a year, a year!”

Michelle shakes her head, “I’m sure he intended to show them to you eventually. Think about it, Peter. Why would he have them out when you’re around, otherwise?”

“He didn’t even know I was in the workshop.” Peter says, his voice growing in volume. “He was probably trying to decide where he could hide them next.”

It’s Ned who replies this time. “I still think you should read them,” he urges. “Even if it’s just one.”

Silences falls once more over the trio. No one says anything or makes a move. That is, until Peter takes one of the letters out. Michelle and Ned watch as he reads it.

**Peter,**

**I don’t know where to start, other than to say I’m truly sorry. I’ve let you down as your father. This isn’t how things were meant to be, this isn’t how any of it was meant to turn out. I understand if you hate me, I wouldn’t blame you for that at all. This isn’t how a good father acts, and I hope that maybe one day you can forgive me.**

**There’s little chance I won’t get sent down for what I’ve done, and I don’t know if I’m going to be granted the right to have visits anytime soon, if ever. But I want you to know that I love you, and that I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve put both you and Tony through. If I’m not granted the rights to have visits, please know that I’ll be thinking of you every day. I know you’ll do me proud.**

**All my love and wishes, pops. X**

The silence stays over the three of them, but none of them miss the way Peter’s grip on the paper tightens as he reads, or the way he bites down on his bottom lip.

“Well…” Michelle trials off, treading as lightly as she can. “What does it say?”

Peter doesn’t respond straight away. He keeps rereading the letter, repeating the words over and over in his head. He only snaps out of the trance when Ned shakes him by the wrist. “We should get going,” he decides, stuffing the letter and envelopes into his bag. He stands up, moving out of the booth. “Class starts soon.”

Although they know something isn’t right, neither Michelle or Ned push their friend. They simply grab their bags and exit the cafe with him.

___

“That’s it, great, just breath in and out.” Rhodey’s sat next to Tony on the couch, his hand lightly resting on his shoulder. They’d been speaking about Peter when Tony had started having an anxiety attack. Rhodey wishes Tony had his medication on him - it would’ve helped tremendously. At least Rhodey knows how to help Tony when his anxiety flares up. He watches as his best friend tries catching his breath, hands on the back of his head. “Do you want some water?”

Tony, with his eyes closed, shakes his head. “I’ll be fine,” he rasps out, sounding much less convincing than he’d intended to.

Knowing better than that, Rhodey gets up. He walks the small distance to the kitchen, ignoring the dull pain in his lower back. “You’ve got to start accepting help, Tony,” he says, filling a glass up with water. He returns to the couch and places the glass on the coffee table.

“Giving me a lecture whilst I come down from an anxiety attack, thanks Rhodes.”

Rhodey would worry if it wasn’t for the small smile on Tony’s face. “You know me, no time like the present to teach someone a lesson.”

Tony lets out a long breath, finally opening his eyes. They feel tired and his eyelids are heavy, but he forces them to stay open. Takes a drink of water. Ignores the tremble in his hand.

“Feeling any better?”

“I’ll be fine,” Tony says, voice still not quite right.

Rhodey watches him chug down the rest of the water. He collects the cup and makes his way back to the kitchen. “Are you still going to go to the school?”

Now sunk into the couch, Tony sighs. “I don’t have a choice. I have to go speak with the principal about Peter’s behaviour.”

“I’ll come with you.” Rhodey sits down next to Tony, handing him the glass of water. “Don’t even think about arguing about it with me.”

Tony half-heartedly rolls his eyes, half-heartedly laughing. “All right.”

“And as for what we were speaking about,” Rhodey starts, not missing the way Tony tenses up. He rests a hand on his knee, “Peter doesn’t hate you. He’s in shock, but he certainly doesn’t hate you.”

Even though he knows Rhodey’s probably right, Tony can’t help but have a little part of him think otherwise. The look of betrayal and hurt on Peter’s face this morning hasn’t left Tony’s mind.

___

_Steve walks into the living room, only to stop shortly after entering. He spots Tony sat on the couch, Peter laying on top of his chest. The boy’s eyes are closed and his head is tucked under Tony’s chin, one of his fists clutching onto the t-shirt Tony’s wearing. Steve puts the cups of tea down on the table, then getting his phone out. He feels no shame in taking a photo of the two of them, then setting it as his background. Everything he’s ever wanted is right in front of him._

_He walks over to the pair and presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead. He knows better than to try and shake him awake. “Tony,” he whispers, then plants another kiss, this one on his cheek. “Tony, wake up.”_

_The dark haired man stirs slightly. A few seconds later, his eyes flutter open, head turning to look at his partner. “What?” He asks quietly. “Was sleeping.”_

_Steve bites back a laugh, “We should put Peter to bed.” He looks at the small child and runs his fingers through his hair._

_“Mhh,” Tony hums in agreement. He wraps his arms around Peter and stands up, supporting his weight against his chest. He looks at Steve, tiredness still dominant in his facial features. “Lead the way.”_

_The two of them make their way upstairs, walking as lightly as they can. They make it to Peter’s room and Steve switches the nightlight on, Tony placing Peter beneath the sheets with his teddy._

_“He already has us wrapped around his little finger,” Steve says, chuckling softly. He moves to stand next to Tony, both of them looking down at Peter. Steve wraps an arm around Tony’s waist, pulling him closer._

_Tony puts his head on Steve’s shoulder, his hand resting on his chest. “Yeah,” he breathes out. He looks up at Steve. “I love you, Steve.”_

_“I love you, too.” Steve presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead. He links their hands together._

_“I just…” Tony trails off. “I can’t believe we have a child now. We’re a family.”_

_“That we are,” Steve agrees. He pulls Tony into his arms. They both look at Peter. He hasn’t stirred once. “And nothing will come between us, ever.”_

___

Much like the business meetings he has to attend, Tony doesn’t like meetings with the school. The staff are always so stuck in their ways, unable to see things from another person’s perspective. Take right now, for example. Tony and Rhodey have been sat in the principal’s office for fifteen minutes, listening to Principal Morita drone on about why violence is wrong, and that Peter broke one of the policies.

Tony puts his hand up. “I’m going to stop you there,” he interrupts, angered about the way Peter’s being spoken about. He doesn’t miss the look of shock on principal Morita’s face. “Are you even aware of why Peter punched Flash?”

“Flash told us that he was trying to have a laugh with Peter, and Peter got sensitive over the issue, an-”

“Sensitive?” Tony asks, taken back. “He has the damn right to be sensitive over it, wouldn’t you be sensitive,” he makes quotation marks with his fingers, “over someone talking shit about your fathers? One of which is in prison?” He practically growls, moving his shoulder away from Rhodey’s touch.

“Mr. Stark, there’s no need for that language. I was unaware-”

“I can see that,” Tony spits, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair.

“What I believe Tony’s trying to say,” Rhodey starts, voice much calmer, “is that you haven’t looked at this situation properly. Sure, Peter shouldn’t have punched Flash. But Flash shouldn’t have purposely aggravated Peter. They’re both in the wrong, but Flash needs to be punished too.”

Principal Morita coughs, then swallows thickly. Rhodey’s sure he sees a bead of sweat running down his forehead. He wouldn’t be surprised; Tony’s eyes are burning into him like lasers.

“You’re right,” the principal admits, using one of his fingers to loosen his collar from around his neck. “I’ll have a word with Flash.”

“Great.” Tony stands up, brushing his suit jacket down. He looks back at the principal, “Glad you’re finally seeing sense.”

Rhodey watches as he leaves the office without speaking another word. “We’ll be on our way,” he announces. He shakes hand with the principal, then follows after Tony.

___

**Peter,**

**Did you get my last letter? I’ve had confirmation from the guards that it was sent, but I’m still unsure. It did occur to me that I didn’t leave you an address to write back to, though. So I’ve left it on the back of this page.**

**How’s school? You have your homecoming soon, don’t you? Are you still keen on that Liz girl? You should ask her to the dance, if you are. Don’t miss your chance, Peter.**

**I hope you and your father are doing well. I miss you both, and again, I’m sorry for what happened. I love you both, and I hope to hear off you soon.**

**Pops. x**

Peter’s read the letter three times in a row. He’s sat on a table in the canteen with Michelle and Ned, the two of them having a conversation about something that holds no interest to Peter. “Hey, who ate my pizza?” He asks, finally looking up from the piece of paper in his hands.

“You said you didn’t want it,” Michelle responds, one of her eyebrows raised. “Here, have my fries. I don’t want them.”

“Thanks.”

Ned watches as Peter eats a few of the fries, before curiosity gets the better of him. “What does the letter say?” He asks, wincing when Michelle flick his ear.

“You don’t have to tell us.” Michelle assures him.

“It’s fine.” Peter notices the lack of honesty in his voice. “It’s just asking how I am. Asking about homecoming. Saying he hopes me and dad are doing well.” He looks back down at the piece of paper. “Just… normal stuff, I guess.”

Although it’s not in her nature to do so, Michelle reaches her hand out to put over Peter’s. She’s better with verbal comfort than physical, but seeing as Peter’s obviously not in the mood for talking. So instead, she opts for entwining her fingers with Peter’s. “You get to see him on Saturday, though,” she reminds him.

“What if it’s too much?” He looks at his two best friends with slightly red rimmed eyes. “Not on me, but on my dad. What if it makes him uncomfortable? O-or causes him a panic attack, or-”

“You’re going to cause yourself a panic attack if you don’t relax,” Michelle points out. “You need to talk to your dad about this, Peter.”

Peter nods his head vigorously. “You’re right,” he exhales, moving his hand out of Michelle’s.

In attempt to lighten the mood, Michelle flips her hair, “I am.”

A forced smile appears on Peter’s face. Then his eyes cast back down to the letter.

___

When Peter gets home from school, Rhodey’s sat on the couch with his back to Peter, watching a rerun of _That 70s Show_. “Where’s dad?” Peter asks, biting back a laugh when he makes Rhodey jump.

“Has anyone ever told you not to sneak up on people?” Rhodey asks, a hand over his heart. “He’s in the workshop. I told him he needs to rest, but have you ever known your dad to listen to a word I say?”

Peter walks over to the couch. “Why does he need to rest? Is he okay?” He asks, playing with his fingers.

“Sit down,” Rhodey pats the couch cushion next to him, “he had an anxiety attack, but he’s okay now.” He waits until Peter’s sat down to carry on. “Have you read the letters you took this morning?”

Peter slowly nods, feeling as if he should go and see his dad instead of being sat here with Rhodey. “Two of them, yeah.”

“Your dad didn’t hide them from you out of spite, Peter. He thought he was doing the right thing.”

“But _how_?” Peter frowns. “It doesn’t make sense. He knew how much I’ve missed pops, and he hid the letters from me!”

Rhodey licks over his lips. “Showing you those letters meant that Tony would’ve had to admit Steve was - is - still a part of your life. His, too. And I know that sounds selfish, but you didn’t see what he and Steve went through. The…” he debates if he should go on, but he knows he shouldn’t sugarcoat it. “The physical fights, Peter… They weren’t pretty. You saw the aftermath on Tony. He kept the letters because in his eyes Steve wasn’t his husband anymore - he was someone who’d ripped his family apart, shattered everything Tony worshipped. And he didn’t want anyone like that near you; the most important person in his life.”

Peter looks away from Rhodey, sniffling. He’d never thought of it like that. Rhodey’s hand is on his back, but Peter neither leans into the touch, nor moves away from it.

“Go see him.”

Not having to be told twice, Peter gets up and makes his way to the lab.

___

Unlike this morning, the way Tony’s stood in the workshop allows him to see Peter come down the stairs of the workshop. But before Tony can say anything, or even turn the music that’s blasting through the speakers down, Peter’s engulfed him in a hug. Tony can feel a wet patch forming on his shirt. He turns the music down but doesn’t speak. Instead wrapping his arms around Peter tightly, burying his nose into his hair. It’s not quite silent, music softly playing in the background ( _Wherever you may go, No matter where you are, I never will be far away)_.

“Thank you,” Peter speaks up eventually.

Tony pulls back, looking Peter in the eye. “For what.”

Peter swallows, a small smile finding its way to his lips. “For always trying to do best by me.”

Tony shakes his head and hugs Peter once again. He squeezes his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. “You’re my son,” he says quietly, trying not to cry. “Of course I try to do best by you.”

___

Peter sits at his desk, having finally tidied it, along with the rest (most of) his room. His room is dark except for the lamp on his desk. The third letter from his pops is on the table. He takes a deep breath before taking it out of the envelope.

**Peter,**

**I figure that you probably aren’t getting these letters. I guess that your dad’s keeping them from you. But I don’t blame him. I haven’t exactly been the best parent - nor husband - for a while, now. Breaking the law and getting sent to prison… it isn’t what any responsible father would do. I know I’ve said, well, written, it before, but I really am sorry for all of this. Neither you nor your father deserve what I’ve put this family through.**

**I hope one day that I can see you, or hear from you at least. And Peter, don’t be upset with your dad if you’re reading this late. If he did hide these letters, he was doing it with your best interest at heart. Never doubt that he’s always got your best interest at heart.**

**All my love, pops. x**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from the workshop scene at the end are from Lullabye, by Billy Joel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I really did want to get this chapter published in January, but I couldn't. And then I wrote out a lot of this chapter, then I rewrote it completely. Then I did it again. But at last, here it is! Thank you for everyone who's left kudos and comments on this fic, it means so much to me!
> 
> One last thing, please let me know if there are any spelling typos or mistakes. There shouldn't be, but I've missed them in the past.

On any other day, the tremble of his hand is bearable. Sure, it isn’t ideal, and any added stress or pressure worsens it, but Tony’s used to it. However, today is a lot worse than it normally is. Not matter how hard he tries, he can’t get it under control.

Arranging this visitation with Steve hasn’t done his health any good, but he reminds himself that he can’t be selfish in this situation. He’s doing this for Peter, not himself. If it was just Tony, he’d be happy with never seeing Steve again. After a few seconds his hand has steaded ever so slightly, causing a light sense of relief to release itself throughout him. “Peter, are you ready?” He calls into the living room, picking up the carrier bag from the kitchen table.

“Yeah, just tying my shoe!” Shortly after his statement, Peter appears in the kitchen. His hair is actually styled for once. Tony knows it isn’t a coincidence that it’s parted in the same way that Steve used to style it. “Dad, are you okay?” The teenager after a few seconds of watching his dad stare at him.

Tony snaps back into reality, plastering the fake smile he’s perfected on his face. “Of course I am,” he puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder and starts walking with him, “never been better.”

___

“Well?” Sam’s looking at Steve from across the table, a spoon of cereal in his hand. He and Scott have been watching the man ever since the guard gave him the letter five minutes ago. Steve’s eyes have been glued to it.

“C’mon man, the suspense is killing me,” Scott whines. He sits back in his chair, folding his arms. “Why aren’t you talking? You’re never usually like this when you get a letter. Is it Sharon?”

Steve’s voice is rough when he finally speaks, “It’s Tony.” His eyes continue to be fixated on the paper. “Him and Peter… they’re visiting me, today.”

Sam and Scott look at one another, neither of them knowing what to say. They’re more than aware of how desperately Steve’s wanted to see his family since being in prison. They’re aware of the letters he wrote, the frustration and anger that’s filled him, how badly he’s missed his family.

It’s Scott who eventually breaks the silence at the table. “In that case, you should shower. Have you smelt yourself? Not good, Steve. Have-” he breaks his own rambling with a yelp, which was caused by Sam’s foot colliding with his shin under the table. He looks at the other man with a scowl, moving his hand to rub his leg.

“Does it say why they’re coming?” Sam asks, eyes locked on Steve.

Slowly, Steve shakes his head. “No. Just that they’re going to be here in a few hours.”

With his lips pursed, Sam nods his head. “Well, you best get ready. You’ve wanted this for a long time.”

His voice is so quiet that Sam and Scott almost miss the ‘yeah’ Steve responds with.  “I have to go,” he declares suddenly, leaving the table without another word spoken.

Scott goes to get up to follow him, only for Sam to push him back down onto his chair. “Leave him,” he insists, watching as Steve leaves the eating hall. “He needs time on his own.”

Steve leaves the food hall, heading straight to his cell. Once he’s there, he closes the door and lets out a shuddering breath. He staggers over to his bed. Feeling a pain starting up in his chest, he clutches his shirt.

This day has been the subject of his dreams ever since his first day here. In his head, the day always goes well. Both Peter and Tony are just as happy to see him as Steve is to see them. There’s tears (mostly out of happiness to see one another), apologies, forgiveness and overall, still a strong sense of family. But now that the day has come, reality is setting in. Although he wasn’t the only one in the war due to the Sokovia accords, Steve is aware of his actions. At the time he hadn’t thought the consequences through. All he’d thought about was how Bucky was out there and how Steve couldn’t just stand around and watch as he labelled a villian.

But look where that got him. Where that got _Bucky_ , and everyone else who’d fought on his side. Steve, Sam and Scott are prisoners in this maximum security jail. Wanda’s been placed in one too, although she’s in an all female prison, of which Steve doesn’t know the location. Clint stood trial with everyone, but due to technically being retired, they granted him house arrest. As for Bucky, he stood trial for the actions of the Winter Soldier, as well as standing trial with Steve and the others. However, that’s as far as Steve’s knowledge goes. He doesn’t know what happened to him after that. He tries not to think about it.

The thing Steve regrets the most is how torn apart is family now is. Both his and Tony’s actions have had effect on each other. But they’re both grown men, and whilst it’s undoubtedly had an affect on both of them, Steve dreads to think how it’s affected Peter. He’s the one who simultaneously got caught up in the whole mess, yet was forgotten during it. Whilst Steve was trying to help Bucky and Tony was trying to bring them in, neither of them thought about Peter. How he would be affected by his fathers’ actions. How he would suffer any consequences either man caused.

The fact that Tony and Peter are coming should fill Steve with joy. And it does, but that small amount of joy is buried under everything else he’s feeling. His head is clouded with negativity and anxiety, causing the pain in his chest to intensify.

The thought of how much Peter’s changed over the last few months and how much Steve has missed makes him feel sick to his stomach. He remembers Peter’s first birthday with him and Tony as if it was yesterday.

___

_Like he does with everything, Tony goes all out on Peter’s birthday. The party is being held at one of Tony’s many houses (mansions) which is just on the outskirts of New York. Alongside him, Steve and Peter, The Avengers, Clint’s family, and children from Peter’s class (accompanied by their guardians) are celebrating Peter’s birthday. The back garden is the main host of the party, although some of the adults are sat inside with the younger children._

_Peter hadn’t asked for a lot for his birthday - all he’d wanted was a new bike and a camera. And whilst his fathers had gotten him those, they also hadn’t held back to get him more. From a BBQ, to a bounce house, to a swimming pool, there’s everything at the party. They’d also bought him a new jungle jim for their main house back in New York, promising to set it up as soon as they returned._

_“You know,” the sudden voice in his ear makes Tony jump, but he relaxes when he feels familiar arms wrap around his waist, “we didn’t have all this back in my day.”_

_Tony simply chuckles, turning his head to nuzzle his nose into Steve’s face. “Mmh, makes two of us then.” He looks back out over everyone, he and Steve stood on the back porch. “Howard wasn’t one to celebrate birthdays.”_

_Steve plants a kiss on the top of Tony’s head, before resting his chin amongst his hair. “Ma always use to make a cake. Wouldn’t be the best, and we couldn’t afford to waste it, so we’d be eating it for days afterwards. It’s the thought that counts, though.”_

_A small smile worms its way onto Tony’s face. “At least we can give Peter the birthday party he deserves.”_

_“That’s true,” Steve agrees, letting Tony’s hands slip into his. “You could buy him a bakery, not just a birthday cake.”_

_“If that’s what he wants, I have my connection,” Tony says, looking back at Steve and matching his grin. He leans up so that their lips can meet, pulling back only seconds later. Looking into Steve’s eyes, he reaches a hand up to cup his cheek. “I love you.”_

_There’s a look of vulnerability on Tony’s face, and it makes Steve pull him closer. “I love you too. I always will.”_

_“Always is a long time to promise,” Tony points out, his voice softer than normal._

_“Always won’t even be long enough when it comes to you,” Steve replies, moving his head to close the space between their lips. “There’s nothing, there’s no one, who could stop me from loving you.” He doesn’t give Tony the chance to answer, instead pressing their lips together once more. He knows Tony isn’t always one for words, but Steve had meant every word of what he said. He can’t, doesn’t, won’t, imagine a life where Tony isn’t by his side._

___

It’s Peter’s voice that snaps Tony out of his daydream. He turns towards his son, both of them occupying one window seat in the back. “Mmh? What did you say?”

“I said,” Peter turns his body so he can face Tony better, moving one leg to sit under him, “why do you always wear sunglasses?”

Tony shrugs his shoulder. “I don’t know Peter, why do you always wear converse?”

Not needing to even think about it, Peter answers, “Because they’re comfortable, and I like them.”

“There’s your answer then,” Tony replies, almost snapping, misplacing his emotions.

It’s quiet for a moment, an uncomfortable atmosphere growing in the car. That is, until once again, Peter breaks the silence.

Looking down at his thumb, picking the loose skin next to the nail, he mutters, “We could always just… turn around.”

It takes a few seconds for Tony to process what Peter’s said, before he’s sighing and moving over to sit in the middle, closer to him. “When Steve and I adopted you, do you remember what we told you?”

Peter shakes his head, continuing to keep his eyes gazed down at his thumb.

“We said that no matter what happens, we’ll be there for you. That, no matter the situation, we’d be there.” He puts an arm around Peter, lightly squeezing his shoulder. “And that’s still true. Even after everything that’s happened, even though your pops is in jail,” Tony covers his mouth to cough, hearing his voice get thick with emotion, “he’s still here for you. I shouldn’t have hidden those letters from you, I’m sorry.”

Finally looking at Tony, Peter doesn’t try hiding the emotion written all over his face. “You were just trying to do what you thought was best by me, I get it.” His voice cracks towards the end of the sentence, but he doesn’t cry. Instead, he rubs one of his eyes, then asks the question he’s been simultaneously building up the courage to ask and trying to push out of his head for a long time. “Are you… are you and pops going to stay together?”

The question itself doesn’t affect Tony nearly as much as the innocence and vulnerability Peter’s showing does. Tony would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about it. If it was possible for him and Steve to work things out, to try and get back to how they used to be. But it’s all wishful thinking, and Tony’s - only recently - come to terms with that. “No, Peter. It’s,” he takes a deep breath in, “it’s not going to happen. I’m sorry.”

Peter turns his attention back to his hand. His voice is so quiet that Tony barely hears him when he says, ‘Okay’. He looks out the window, his face turned away from Tony, but leaning some of his weight into him.

___

There’s still panic and excitement active in Steve, the two emotions fighting for which one is stronger. He’s been pacing back and forth for the last fifteen minutes, trying not to freak out. He’s dressed in the nicest clothes he has; a cream shirt (that used to be white) and a pair of beige khakis.

 _C’mon Rogers, you got this, it’ll be fine_ , he repeats over and over in his head, cracking his knuckles and continuing to pace his room whilst he does so. There’s a pain in his stomach, but he can’t tell if it’s from anxiety or hunger. He hadn’t eaten anything at lunch, and had left most of his breakfast this morning, but he’s got more important things on his mind right now than eating.

The door opens and Steve sees a guard stood there. “Follow me,” he tells him, not wasting any time and starting to lead the way.

Steve does as he’s told, following the guard down the halls. He passes Sam and Scott on his way, both of them giving him and tight smile, as well a Sam briefly clapping a hand on his shoulder. When they reach the visiting wing, instead of going into the large hall where the other prisoners are, they go to the hall in which the rooms for conjugal visits are held. Only the room Steve’s taken to has an actual door instead of metal bars, and there’s a table and chairs instead of a bedroom set up.

“Your husband demanded there be privacy,” the guard explains, stood at the door as Steve looks around the room. “I didn’t think they’d allow it, but apparently he still has leverage.”

A small smile pulls at the corners of Steve’s lips. _Sounds about right_.

“He also said he’d prefer it if there we no guards in here, but myself and Jefferson will be outside the door, so don’t try anything,” he warns. “Your son can only stay for an hour of the two hour visit, as he’s under twenty-one, and can only be in here with Tony. Tony, on the other hand, can stay for as much of the two hour visitation as he pleases.”

Although he doesn’t think that’s fair, Steve nods his head, staying silent. He still can’t believe that this is happening. He sits down at the table, holding his hand together, his leg bouncing uncontrollably.

Much to his relief, the guard leaves the room to stand outside. Steve takes a deep breath in, placing his head in his hands. The fact that soon enough he’s going to be reunited with his family, makes him feel a little lightheaded.

When he hears the door open about ten minutes, his head whips up. And there, right in front of him, are Peter and Tony. Before anyone can say anything, Steve’s out of his seat, and Peter’s practically jumped into his arms, a childlike happiness radiating through him. Steve holds him tightly, not missing the fact that he’s gotten taller. He buries his nose in Peter’s hair, closing his eyes. “I’ve missed you so much,” Steve says, feeling Peter grip onto the back of his shirt.

“I missed you too, pops.” Peter steps back, looking up at Steve. There’s tears in his eyes but a smile on his lips.

Steve smiles at him, now noticing how much Peter’s build has changed. He’s not only taller, but his shoulders are broader. Steve can’t help but feel a swift punch in his gut when he wonders about what else he’s missed out on.

When Steve looks over at Tony, the pain exacerbates. He’s stood with his arms by his side, one hand occupied with a white carrier bag. Everything about his body language screams that he’s relaxed, but Steve knows better. He learnt how to see through Tony’s defensive mechanisms years ago. His face is thinner than it used to be, and there’s a thin scar directly under the lense of his sunglasses. When Tony lifts the glasses off his face, their eyes meet. There’s no denying the pain that’s lurking in Tony’s eyes.

The shorter man steps forward, and for a second Steve thinks he’s going in for a hug, but then he extends his hand out and Steve comes crashing back into reality.

They shake hands.

“Steve.”

Steve swallows the lump in his throat. “Tony.”

The three of them sit down at the table; Tony and Peter on one side, Steve on the other. It’s awkward for a couple of seconds, but then Peter starts talking, and some of the tension in Steve’s body leaves him.

It’s a bittersweet experience to say the least. Peter’s so bright and kind and everything you could want in a son, and it shows when he speaks. Steve can’t think how he’d even attempt to express how much remorse he feels. He’s missed out on so much of Peter’s life, and he’s not going to be released from prison anytime soon. There’s a lot more he’s going to miss out on.

When Peter stops talking about the decathlon team and Liz (and also Michelle, who Steve’s confused as to if Peter likes her or not), Tony speaks for the first time since he and Steve shook hands.

“Here.” He dips his hand into the white carrier bag. “These are Peter’s last two report cards,” he puts them in front of Steve, then crosses his arms, “thought you’d want to see them.”

“You brought them?” Peter asks, furrowing an eyebrow in confusion.

“Of course I did.” Tony looks at Peter. “You know how proud I am of you,” he smiles, squeezing his shoulder. He looks back at Steve, the smile sliding off his face.

Steve coughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. He looks through the report cards, happiness and complements spilling out of his. “Peter, you’ve done amazingly,” he says proudly.

There’s a small blush on the apples of Peter’s cheeks, but he returns Steve’s smiles. “Thanks.”

Steve gives very little detail on what prison life is like when Peter asks him. Most of his answers are vague, and the ones that aren’t, are sugar coated. He’ll never actually tell Peter what it’s like - he doesn’t want him to worry. The conversation moves on swiftly, and whilst he and Peter are laughing, Tony’s showing almost no emotion every time Steve looks at him. And when he _is_ showing emotion, it’s far from joy.

In the middle of a story that Peter’s telling, the door opens. All three of them direct their head to the door, and Steve feels his stomach drop when the guard comes in, saying Peter’s got to leave.

“Can I not stay for just five more minutes?” Peter pleads, to which the guard shakes his head. “Please?”

Tony puts his hand up to the guard, as if to say _I’ve got this._ He turns to Peter, “Say goodbye to pops, and go wait in the car with Happy. I’ll be out soon.”

Sorrow flashes across Peter’s face, but he nods his head. He stands up, as does Steve, the two of them stepping closer before their hugging. “Keep your grades up, I’m so proud of you, Peter,” Steve says softly, holding back tears. He’s got one hand on Peter’s back and one hand at the back of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Peter says, sniffling as he pulls back. He gives Steve one last smile before he leaves the room, promising Tony that yes, he’ll meet him in the car.

The door shuts once more, but Steve remains standing. He’s looking at Tony, but Tony’s completely avoiding eye contact with him. His eyes haven’t moved from the door.

“If you think it was my idea to come visit you, you’re wrong,” Tony eventually speaks, an edge to his voice. He turns to look at Steve. He might’ve seemed emotionless earlier, but now there’s a hard, cold look on Tony’s face. “I came here because of Peter. Because he’s being bullied for what _you_ did.”

Steve feels a stab of hurt, but then he shakes his head. “I wasn’t the only one caught up in that,” he points out. “In fact, if you had just agreed with me in saying-”

“What? In that we continue being reckless? Taking lives that could be saved?” Tony scoffs, hands tightening around the back of the chair.

“No, that we stay as a team,” Steve crosses his arms, looking down at Tony, “that we don’t let ourselves be divided.”

Tony shakes his head, then getting to his feet. There’s too much anger in him to sit still. “You divided us, Steve. You ruined us when you chose Bucky over us.”

“I wasn’t the only one on the team who was on my side,” Steve hisses, putting his hands down on the table with a heavy force.

Tony visibly jumps at the sound, but doesn’t back down. “I’m not on about the team Steve!” He shouts. “I’m on about _us_ ,” he uses his hand to motion between himself and Steve in a fast manner, “about Peter. You ruined this family.”

Steve shakes his head. “Well the fact that you haven’t let me see him in a year and a half doesn’t help, does it?”

“I was trying to protect him,” Tony claims defensively.

“Oh spare me the bullshit, Tony,” Steve spits. “You did it out of spite, because you know how much it would hurt me.”

For a split second, Tony looks truly hurt. “Get over yourself,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Not everything is about you.”

Steve takes a deep breath in. He breathes out his nose, moving his hands to his hair and lightly tugging at it. “I didn’t want to argue with you.”

“And I didn’t want to have a broken family,” Tony says, eyes emanating nothing but sorrow. “I didn’t want to have my husband to choose someone else over me, over our son.”

“I know you’re mad, but-”

Tony cuts him off. “Mad isn’t the word.” He tucks his hands under his armpits. “You knew he killed my parents. You knew…” he trails off, biting his bottom lip. “You watched me, every single year, grieve for my mother. And you never thought to tell me.” He watches Steve open his mouth to say something, but Tony puts his hand out. “Don’t give me the ‘I was trying to protect you’ shit, Steve. I don’t want to hear it.”

Not knowing what to say, Steve stays quiet. He doesn’t know why he used to dream about this being a happy experience. It couldn’t be further from that. He walks over to Tony, but when he goes to hold his hand, Tony moves his hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” the shorter of the two men croak out.

“Tony, just listen to me,” Steve begs, ignoring Tony’s words and putting his hands on his shoulders.

Tony looks at Steve, his guard completely down. There are tears in his eyes, and he can feel hear his heartbeat. “Don’t say it.”

“There’s still-”

“-Steve, please-”

“-hope for us. We can still make this work,” Steve insists, his voice breaking. “Please, we can’t give up. There’s still a chance that this, that us, can work.”

Tony shakes his head. Although there’s a pain in his chest, he can’t tear his eyes away from Steve’s. “It’s over. I want a-”

Not being able to hear Tony say it, and still truly convinced that they can get through this, Steve pushes their lips together, his hand sliding up to cup his cheek.

Tony can’t help but kiss back. To say he hasn’t missed being intimate with Steve would be the lie. He melts into the kiss, but not long after, the feeling changes from soft to a horrible, unignorable burn. The longer their lips stay together, the more nausea Tony feels in his stomach. He pushes himself back from Steve. “I can’t do this,” he whispers, shaking his head. A tear rolls down his cheek, as Tony stares back at the man who seems to be as equally broken as he is. “I want a divorce.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve shakes his head, stepping forward. When he tries to take Tony’s hand this time, Tony lets him. “Please, Tony. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Why did you choose him over us?” Tony’s voice wavers. “Why, why did you have to throw everything we had away?”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Tony shakes his head. “It’s been this way for a long time, there’s no changing that now.” He slips away from Steve and goes to the door. “Keep Peter’s report cards, I’ve got the emailed versions.”

Steve turns around, watching Tony with tears in his eyes. “Tony…”

“You should have these.” Tony reaches into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and his wedding band. He takes Steve’s hand, places them in the palm of his hand, then looks him in the eye. Both men have tears cascading down their cheeks. “Bye, Steve.”

And with that, before he thinks twice or Steve can say another word, Tony slips out of the room.

Steve stands there, dumbfounded. He opens the piece of paper with shaky hands. As soon as he realises it’s divorce forms, he drops to his knees. This isn’t how today was meant to go. This isn’t how his _life_ was supposed to go. He’s made a lot of regrettable choices in his life, but this is the worst by far. He’s lost a lot of people, too. But losing Tony and Peter, the people who made his life worth living… Losing them has caused him the greatest pain.

___

Tony doesn’t cry until he gets home. On the way back, he’d let Peter go on about how happy he is, how much he’s missed Steve. How great it was to see him. He even made the promise that Peter can see Steve on a somewhat regular basis (although, he left out the part that Happy will be going with him, instead of Tony).

He curls up in the centre of his bed, burying himself amongst the cushions. Sobs rack through his body, but he does nothing to try and stop them. He’s just lost who, in his eyes, was once the love of his life. He’s allowed to be upset.

He knows that eventually it’ll be okay. That it won’t hurt as much. But as of right now, it hurts more than any pain he’s ever experienced. So he dims the lights, mutes FRIDAY, and lets the room be filled with the sounds of his cries. He’s never felt so empty in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I teared up twice whilst writing the last version of this chapter. I hope you enjoyed! Find me on tumblr @ giraffewrites!


End file.
